Animals
by The Raisin Girl
Summary: Sneaking out is only as fun as what you do with that stolen freedom. Destiel one-shot, teenagers AU.


_I'll ask polite if the devil needs a ride,  
'cause the angel at my right ain't hangin' out with me tonight._

* * *

The Miltons' house is barely visible through the trees when Dean pulls off to the side of the road and cuts the engine. He grins up at the full moon; the headlights would've been a dead giveaway, and he doesn't want to give Mr. Milton any more warning than absolutely necessary.

He checks his watch; two minutes and counting. He rolls down his window and leans out, peering into the shadow-mottled darkness of the trees, eyes and ears straining for a sign of movement or the rustle of leaves.

"Hello Dean!" Says a breathless voice at his ear.

"Jesus fucking-" Dean jumps so hard he bangs his head on the roof of the car. Cas laughs at the glare Dean shoots him and bounds around the front of the car to pull open the door and slide into the passenger seat.

"You scared the shit outta me, Cas! Warn a guy next time."

"I was being stealthy," Cas says, unruffled. "Now it might be a good idea to go before-"

"Castiel Emmanuel Milton!" Mr. Milton's bellowing voice easily travels the full quarter mile to the ears of the two boys, and it's Cas's turn to jump like a scared rabbit as Dean laughs and cranks the car, throwing it into reverse and speeding as fast as he dares back down toward the point where the dirt road to the Miltons' meets asphalt. As soon as he feels the tires hit pavement Dean yanks the wheel to the right, backing the car into the road in one fluid motion before shifting gears and then flooring it.

Cas leans his head out the window and practically howls, the cold air of late autumn stinging his cheeks and playing havok with his dark hair. Before they're around the next bend, the sound of Mr. Milton yelling after them has already faded in the wind.

* * *

"So where are we going?" Cas asks when he calms down enough to pull himself into the car again. Dean glances over at him, and almost forgets to look back at the road. Cas's face is practically glowing, eyes alight and hair hopelessly mussed, sticking up in odd places and falling over his forehead in others. He looks like a rare sighting of some wild, semi-mythical spirit of small town harvest season. Dean swallows hard and tries to focus his attention on the road ahead as he answers Cas's question.

"Uh...hadn't really thought that far ahead, to be honest."

"Typical," Cas chuckles, relaxing in the seat and turning his head to the side to grin dopily at Dean. "My man with a plan."

Dean tries to ignore the way his stomach flips at that. He and Cas have been sneaking away together on and off since last summer, but they've never really put a name to what that means, what they are. He isn't sure how to bring it up, either; what do you call your ex-girlfriend's little brother when he suddenly grows up and becomes someone you talk to, and laugh with, and kiss?

"Hey," Cas says, pulling Dean back to the present. "What are you so diligently thinking about?"

"Just you," Dean says without missing a beat, because that's just the way they are with each other. That's the kind of stupid-ass thing he just goes and says, when it comes to Cas. "Always thinkin' about you."

"Oh. Well then, by all means continue. Don't let me interrupt." There's an undertone to Cas's words that sets off a warning bell in Dean's head, but he doesn't have time to wonder because a second later Cas slides across the seat and he knows.

Their thighs are just touching, Cas giving off heat like a small furnace even through two layers of denim. Dean tightens his hands on the steering wheel.

"Cas?" He says uncertainly.

"Shhhh," Cas breathes in his ear, slipping a hand between Dean's knees. "Drive."

"Yeah, but where-"

"Just drive," he says, cupping Dean through his jeans and pressing a sweet, close-lipped kiss to the spot just below his ear. "Let me worry about getting us somewhere."

He starts to move his hand, rubbing gently at first and then with a steadily increasing pressure that has Dean hard as a rock and straining painfully against his zipper in a matter of minutes. For his part, Dean tries to keep his attention focused on staying in the right lane. He thinks maybe he ought to slow down, but his foot reflexively presses harder every time Cas increases the pressure on his groin. Cas's breath is hot and wet at his ear, and _god_...Dean has no idea where this came from but he likes it. He feels the tension building, till it's all he can do to keep his arms and legs from locking up and losing their functions completely.

"Cas," he gasps out, tilting his head into the warmth of Cas's touch. "Gotta...slow down..."

"Whatever you say, Dean," Cas says, and the hands are gone. Dean almost—almost—whimpers at the loss of contact, but the embarrassing sound is sucked away in a sharp intake of breath as Dean feels Cas fumble to undo his fly and reach inside.

The air in the car feels cool against the heated flesh of Dean's dick for a moment before Cas closes a hand around it. He doesn't move, though. Instead, he leans in close to Dean's ear again.

"How good are you at driving through distractions?" He asks, voice all sweet innocence in a way that makes Dean instantly suspicious.

"What kinda distraction didya have in mind?" He returns uncertainly. Cas sighs with mock disappointment.

"Well," he says, "I guess we'll just have to play it by ear. Pull my hair if you think you're about run us off the road."

Before Dean can ask _what?_ Cas is sliding away towards the passenger door, leaning over and in so that his head is practically in Dean's lap. Dean sees where this is going even as he thinks it can't _possibly _be going there, but then Cas's mouth is on him and he doesn't have the capacity to think of much at all. He clutches the steering wheel and stares wide-eyed at the road, trying his best not to get them both killed.

It's wet, and hot, and when Cas swirls his tongue over the head, Dean swears he feels sparks. He manages to fight the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can't hold back the low moan that escapes his throat. Cas pulls off and glances up at him, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes a dark glimmer of blue in the shadow cast by the dashboard.

"That," he says, "is what I like to hear."

"Cas," Dean gasps. "Please—"

"Since you asked nicely," Cas quips before sinking down again. He hollows his cheeks and sucks hard once before taking Dean in as deeply as he can, opening his throat and swallowing. Dean cries out and nearly swerves off the road, only just managing to keep rubber to asphalt through the assault on his nerves.

Cas gives head like he does everything else: hard and brutally direct. 110%, that's his Cas. Dean breathes through his nose and wills himself to focus as he feels that delicious warmth twisting low in his stomach. He can see the headlines now: _two dead in car crash, road head suspected._ A hoarse chuckle escapes his lips at the thought.

His humor disappears abruptly at the feeling of Cas's teeth scraping gently against him.

"My God," he grits out. "You tryin' to kill me?"

The way Cas glances up at him and actually fucking _grins _around a mouthful of his cock is all the warning he gets before Cas suddenly increases his speed. The sight of him alone could almost do Dean in, bobbing up and down with his hair falling into his eyes and the cross around his neck catching the light every time it swings forward with his movements. Dean is lost to it, almost forgetting to watch the road because he can't tear his eyes away from _Cas_, from the way Cas is making him feel and the deliciously debauched way he looks while he's doing it.

With no warning—clearly nothing about tonight is going to come with a warning—Cas takes him all the way in once more, sucking hard and swallowing around him. He hums when Dean touches the back of his throat, and the vibrations are like an electric shock up his spine. Dean feels his release racing towards him so fast he's half afraid it will run right by before he has a chance to catch it.

"Cas," he whispers desperately. "Cas." His hands are gripping the wheel so tightly they hurt, and the road in front of him registers as little more than a dark blue blur streaked with shafts of light. All Dean can do is hold on and try not to get them both killed as his senses are overrun with pleasure. He can't see, can't hear anything over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, can't register much at all beyond the rapturous altered state of his own body in Cas's hands, in Cas's _mouth _as he works him through his orgasm until Dean is a boneless, breathless, glassy-eyed mess in the driver's seat. Later, he could swear to God he actually _lost time._

When the world finally fades back into focus, Dean realizes that they're practically flying down the back road that leads around the main part of town and toward the train tracks. He eases his foot—which is cramping up a little—off the gas pedal and tries to relax his grip on the steering wheel. It feels like the damn thing has been fused to his hands. When he's sure he is in complete control of the car, he turns wide eyes to Cas, who is sitting there looking as wild and wind-ruffled as before, but otherwise as if nothing just happened.

"What was _that?"_ It's all Dean can think to say. And okay, it doesn't sound a bit like the sated gratitude he is most definitely feeling, but he's more than a little bit confused. He and Cas aren't…like that, normally. They mess around, sure…but he's not typically the type to be so impulsive, at least not when it comes to sex. Most of the time the stuff they do is really slow, and—although Dean feels weird for even thinking it—sweet. However elaborate they may get in their continued attempts to get Cas out of his house at all hours of the night, they're typically straight arrows in all other respects.

Cas is apparently not surprised at himself, though, if the look he shoots Dean is any indication. It's a perfectly innocent expression, but for the bit of sly smugness lurking at the corners of his eyes and in the twitch of his lips. Dean realizes with a pleasant shiver that he likes this side of Cas. A lot.

"That," he says calmly, "was a preview of what's in store for you if you ever finally find a place to park this damn car."

Dean swallows, hard, and puts the pedal to the floor.

"Tracks it is," he says. He can hardly wait.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I really have no idea why I had to write this. It's not the best thing I've ever done and it's also the first overtly smutty thing I've ever shared. I just...got this image in my head of a teenage (17-19ish) Dean and Cas in a different life, sneaking out together to fool around and be dumb kids. And I love that image. So that's what this is. Also, this is my bold statement of unabashed love for some Nickelback songs, because even a broken clock is right twice a day.


End file.
